You have just finished a busy day of caring for a recently returned pet and the many items they brought from their hoard. Rubbing your hands together to free them of dust, you look around and nod, satisfied with the item organization you have just completed. It’s time for some well-earned rest.

One last peek out the back door confirms; your pet is already sleeping soundly under a table. No surprises there — they were gone today longer than ever before! You smile, gently latching the screen and moving to your own bed. You quickly change to your nightwear, freshen up just a bit, crawl into the bed, and switch off the light, eager to get some rest. Your eyelids are heavy, and it takes very little time before you cannot hold them open and you drift into a gentle darkness.
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A glimmer of clean, white light catches your eye. It tickles you, trying to coax you awake… you resist for a moment, only for the light to flare far brighter than sunlight should, painfully abrasive against your eyelids. You flail wildly, falling backward as though you were… standing? The pillar of light encroaches, and you try to crawl backwards, before a voice emanating from the beam stops you:

“Greetings, Petkeeper. Do not be frightened—I am Laurel, guardian of the fields and flowers. I come to you now through this portal of dream—yes, we are merely in a dream—to make an urgent request.”

The light fades slightly as a long, serpentine figure materializes through it. It is a Noo-long, but unlike any you have seen before. It is larger, for one, but also seems to be covered in a strange… fuzziness. As though you were looking at it through a foggy window. The bright light prohibits you from seeing much more than that.

“We do not have much time, so I will put it simply,” the Noo-long, Laurel, continues. “I am faced with a situation most dire, one that requires a certain set of skills. Skills that you, and your fellow Petkeepers, seem to possess. I have watched you for some time now, and your collective abilities have only grown. Please, if you will help me, I beg of you to return to the den of Wayvern the Dragon. I will be waiting.”

And with that, she disappears. Behind her, you see only the soft glow of sunlight bouncing from the mottled ceiling of your room.

Throwing off the twisted covers, you stand, phone already in hand as it vibrates, showing a priority text message from a certain green dragoness. She must have been contacted as well.